


A Chance To Live Again

by retrollama



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Benedict Arnold, Reunions, Timelines are confusing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 00:00:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9264893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/retrollama/pseuds/retrollama
Summary: Post 1.10 'The Capture of Benedict Arnold'.It's been a week since Flynn kidnapped Lucy and everyone is on edge when someone shows up at Mason Industries with a letter from her but is it too late to save the Lucy that they knew?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! An anon named Elizabeth asked if I'd write a reunion fic and here it is! This is an idea that I've had bouncing around in my head since I saw Benedict Arnold and I finally had the time to write it. I basically wrote this whole thing in one sitting and I didn't want to stop to edit it so you'll have to forgive me any spelling mistakes.
> 
> I had originally intended for this to be a one shot but I need to go to bed and I wanted to post what I have. Hopefully, I'll have this finished up tomorrow but for now, I hope you enjoy!

At the time, Wyatt hadn’t even noticed that they’d come back to a future where Flynn’s family was still murdered, he had still taken the Mothership and Christopher had still called them in to track him down. His mind had been focused on finding Jiya and getting her to track the machine’s power so they could find out where the bastard had gone, so they could just _get Lucy back._ It had taken almost an hour for Rufus and Christopher to get him calm enough to sit through the debrief. The threat to remove him from the search party may have helped as well.

After all was said and done, Denise could only say one thing:

“We’ll do what we can to get her back but tracking down Flynn is still our best bet.”

Jiya spent days on her computer trying to get a hit on their location but the Mothership rarely stayed in the same place for longer than an hour, too short a time for them to change and prepare the Lifeboat let alone go after him. Wyatt and Rufus had started sleeping in the conference rooms at Mason Industries, always on call, ready should they finally have a chance.

Rufus spent most of his time with Jiya working on new, more effective ways of tracking the Mothership. They almost had a way to track his location in the present without relying on strange power drains, a means that no longer worked since Anthony had given Flynn what might as well be an infinite power source for the time machine. It was more a way of keeping their minds off their missing friend than anything else but they were making good progress and everyone else was concerned enough not to call them on it.

Wyatt probably struggled more than anyone. He was in a building full of scientists, men and women who were working around the clock to try and get back his missing team mate. But what could he do? There was nothing for him to shoot, no raids to plan, no leads that needed to be run down. It was his job to protect Lucy and he had let her be taken away and now there was nothing he could do to help her but to wait.

After the fourth day of his endless pacing, Mason had taken Wyatt down to one of the subbasements and led him to a room in the furthest area of the facility. It was long and bland concrete, the floors covered in scuff marks where shelving units once stood. It had been outfitted as some kind of gym; there was weight lifting equipment and treadmills to one side, punching bags and training dummies to the other. At the far end of the room a firing range had been constructed facing a table loaded down with dozens of weapons from every century.

“I had thought,” Mason began, “that you might want to teach Lucy and Rufus how to protect themselves when you got back from the last mission.”

Wyatt felt his jaw tighten and his nails bite into his palms. He nodded woodenly. Mason clapped him on the shoulder and left him to his own devices. Nobody saw Wyatt for almost a day when he reappeared and headed to medical with two stress fractures and knuckles that were more bone than flesh.

It had been almost a week and the atmosphere around Mason Industries was heavy with hopelessness and desperation. Flynn’s movements were still erratic and untraceable, Lucy was still missing and Wyatt was… well…

Rufus and Jiya were sitting in the control room with coffee, their sixth cup each, and two barely nibbled sandwiches. Neither of them could find the appetite to eat.

“The new algorithm?” he asked quietly, already knowing the answer.

“We have no way of know until Flynn lands back in the present,” she sighed. Rufus leaned back in his chair, pressing his mug against his temple to absorb the heat.

“It’s been a week…” Jiya leaned forward, taking his hand.

“I know but she’s a fighter. She’ll find her way back to us.” Rufus squeezed her fingers, remembering when Lucy had done this for him after the Apollo 11 mission. Her name had almost become taboo around the building, like the very mention of it would cause something precious to break, like their hearts or their hopes.

Rufus stared at Jiya and wondered how he could have survived this week without her. He imagined he would have been just like Wyatt, tearing himself apart in the basement and wondering what he could have changed. Jiya was like the ground under his feet, keeping him steady. He leant forward to kiss her gently, hoping to convey all he felt for her in that one simple movement.

Their lips had barely brushed when alarm sounded through the complex.

“Intruder at the south gate!” a voice yelled over the PA system. Rufus shot up and ran down the hallways following in the path of the security personnel. A few months ago, he would have put his headphones in, turned up the volume and gotten back to work. His time in the time machine had changed him, his team had changed him.

Somewhere along the way, Wyatt had met up with him and they exited the building together. Three guards stood with their rifles up and pointed at a young man in hospital scrubs, his face pale and eyes wide.

“Who are you?” one of them demanded as Christopher joined the assembled group.

“I-I’m Jay Carter, I’m a resident at St Anne’s Hospital?” he stuttered.

“And what can we do for you, Mr Carter?” Christopher asked without a shred of emotion in her voice.

“There’s this woman in my ward. S-she said she didn’t have any family but she asked me if I could find her friends for her.” The kid was practically shaking under the gaze of the guards, the FBI agent and one incredibly stressed Master Sargent who was just looking for someone to hit. Rufus was impressed he hadn’t peed himself yet. “She gave me this address and, well, she wouldn’t really say anything else but-“

“Who gave you the address?” Wyatt interrupted what was surely going to turn into a nervous rant. Jay flinched at his harsh tone but he managed to meet his eyes.

“Her chart said Amy Flemming but she told me to call her Lucy.”

The yard was silent in shock, not even a whistle of wind in the mid-December air. Rufus felt the words rattling around in his skull as he tried to fit them in the right place. Lucy. Their Lucy was here, in the present at a hospital not ten minutes away. He wanted to scream and cheer in glee but the weight of crushed hopes held him back. What if it wasn’t her? What if this was some other woman with Lucy’s sister’s name who knew where the Mason Industries lab was? What if this was some kind of trap?

“Lucy who?” Christopher asked, her voice noticeably less steady.

“She didn’t say, she just gave me this note and told me to give it to someone named Wyatt,” he explained holding out the small slip of paper. The soldier’s spine stiffened at the mention of his name but he didn’t make any move to accept the letter.

Rufus walked between the guards and took it carefully in his hands. His palms were covered in sweat as he unfolded it. The message was short but its meaning and the handwriting were unmistakable.

_I know how to stop Flynn._

“It’s her,” he breathed. And just like that the courtyard exploded into motion. Wyatt charged through the crowd, grabbed the man by the arm and began dragging him toward the cars. Christopher shouted at him to wait, trying to catch up to him. Rufus felt his foot stick out and trip her of his own accord. Before he knew what he was doing, he was charging off after the soldier.

Wyatt had stopped next to his truck and was fishing his keys out of his pocket as he spoke low and dangerous to the resident.

“You said St Anne, right?” Jay nodded shakily, his eyes wide and afraid at whatever look was in Wyatt’s eyes. “When we get there, you take me to Lucy.” It was an order, not a request. He wrenched the door open and shoved Jay into the passenger seat before he climbed into the driver’s side. Rufus wasn’t even sure Wyatt noticed him scramble into the back as they tore out of the parking lot but he didn’t really care.

Lucy was within reach and they weren’t going to let her slip through their fingers again.

 

* * *

 

 

The hospital hallways were long and winding but Wyatt’s legs ate up the distance as he forced Jay ahead of him. He was lucky he was walking slower, if only so that they wouldn’t draw undue attention to themselves.

He couldn’t believe Lucy was here, so close to them. For how long? Why was she in the hospital? What had Flynn done to her? A million questions were trying to cram themselves into his mind but he had nowhere to let them out. He couldn’t speak freely with Jay there but he wouldn’t let him out of his sight until he had Lucy within arm’s reach.

They turned a few more corridors and Wyatt felt his shoulders tense with every step they took. What would he find when they opened that door?

“This is it,” Jay told them, looking between Rufus and Wyatt hoping they were about to let him go. He handed him to the pilot and turned back to the door.

They were in a private ward, the name ‘Flemming, A’ was written on the label above the room number. There was no window. Wyatt wasn’t sure he would have looked any way, he just would have appreciated the option of knowing what he was going to be walking into. Then again, if she could ask a random resident to come find them, how hurt could she be? Not comatose at least.

“Wyatt?” Rufus called. He took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

Laying on the bed was a woman with hair the colour of black coffee, the roots a shining grey where it had grown out of its dye. Her skin was pale and wrinkled with age, the lines deep set but staring out at him were olive green eyes that held recognition and so much sadness.

“Hello, boys,” she said, her voice roughened by the years, “been a while.”

“Oh my god,” Rufus breathed.

Wyatt was frozen his eyes locked on those eyes, the only familiar thing in a sea of insanity. This woman was so familiar, so like Lucy but with a frailty about her that was a million times worse than what he had seen in Nazi Germany. This was a woman who had lived decades but wasn’t likely to see another month.

“How?” he managed but he knew the word was strangled. He was supposed to be strong but this…

“When Flynn took me, he hid me in time. He would take me to a year and leave me with money and a guard. Sometimes he would come back in a couple of hours, sometimes a couple of years. One day, he just never came back,” she explained. A small smile spread on her lips, long formed laughter lines deepening with the movement. “I was waiting until it was safe to see you again.”

“What do you mean ‘safe’?” Rufus asked.

“I couldn’t come into contact with myself. Who knows what that would have done to the world? So I had to wait until Flynn took me again, until I was the only Lucy Preston in this timeline.”

“You’ve been gone for a week!” Wyatt yelled. Lucy blinked owlishly at him.

“Oops. It was a long time ago; I couldn’t remember the exact date.”

She reached a shaky, wrinkled hand to her mouth and coughed weakly, the movement wracking her whole frame. Wyatt wanted to scream and rage and cry but he didn’t have that luxury. Instead, He handed her the glass of water from the side table and helped her straighten up so she could drink. She patted his cheek affectionately.

“Still helping me,” she smiled. Wyatt swallowed down the lump in his throat and forced a smile.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“We can fix this, right?” Rufus asked, eyes darting between Wyatt and Lucy, hope and despair warring for dominance behind them. “I mean you know where Flynn’s going to be, when he’s going to be, so we just have to get there first and save you.”

Lucy turned her eyes to the pilot and shared her smile with him, this one sad and all too wise.

“You’ve always been so smart, Rufus, and you’re right. You could save me if I told you where I would be but there’s something else you have to do first.”

“What could possibly be more important than saving you?” Wyatt demanded.

“Stopping Flynn.”

Wyatt felt his jaw snap shut at the fierce determination and complete immovability in Lucy’s face. He’s only seen that look on her face two times: once when she told Agent Christopher that she wouldn’t cooperate if they replaced Wyatt and once when she made the bargain with Flynn to save his life.

Nothing anybody said would convince her that this could wait.

“How?” he asked through grit teeth. She must have seen the understanding and resignation in his eyes because the grin returned to her face, tinged with mischief and victory this time. She reached under the blankets over her lap and pulled out a small worn notebook.

“I know you said not to, Wyatt, but I had to write a journal. It was the only way I could remind myself that I wasn’t insane, that you both were real.” Wyatt squeezed her hand comfortingly. “I started it after my first year with Flynn when I realised I might be stuck with him for a while. I kept a record of everything, what he said, where he went and when and who he targeted. About a month after he took me, we went to Brooklyn 1953. There was a man there named Arthur Gelding. He ran a second-hand book store near the Manhattan Bridge.”

“And Flynn killed him? Was he a part of Rittenhouse?” Rufus wondered.

“That’s the thing,” Lucy said, shaking her head, “Flynn didn’t kill Gelding. He saved his life.”

“What? Why would he do that?”

“Who knows why Flynn does what he does? But Gelding was supposed to drown in the East River on the 10 of December 1953. You don’t remember, but history changed because he lived. In 1954 Gelding shot Gerald Pearson and stole his research, passing it off as his own. Arthur Gelding was heralded as the inventor of the first practical solar cell. He sold Pearson’s work under the table to the Soviets. They almost won the space race with the technology he provided.”

“But they didn’t win,” Wyatt stated simply, “So why is this important?”

“You’ll just have to trust me,” she frowned, her jaw set. Wyatt squeezed her shoulder and Rufus took her hand.

“You know we do,” he promised. She looked at them for a moment, her eyes suspiciously damp.

“Well then what are you still doing here?” she sniffled. “The sooner you get Flynn and make sure Arthur Gelding dies the sooner you can save me and make sure I never have to spend fifty years waiting for you to show up.”

“We can’t just leave you here,” Rufus protested.

“I’ve been in this bed a month, another couple of days can’t hurt. Besides, if you do this then I won’t even be here when you get back,” she said matter-of-factly.  

“How can you be so calm?” Wyatt wondered, “Knowing that you’re basically sending us to erase you from history.” Lucy’s smile was worn and fractured as she took their hands but her grip was sure.

“I was never supposed to live this life. I was supposed to come home to my sister and my mother, have drinks with my friends and know that history is safe and I can live in peace. I lived a good life here and it won’t be gone.” She tapped the journal in her lap. “It’s all right here so you can remember me and know about all the adventures I had without you. But she deserves to live a real life. So it’s only fair that I give it to her. I’m running out of time anyway and I don’t really want to die. Better to just vanish, I think.”

Wyatt couldn’t believe this woman was still so strong after all that she’d been through. She was ready to let her life end so that someone, who at this point was an entirely different person, live a life free from all her troubles. How he had gotten lucky enough to meet two women this amazing in a single lifetime he will never know.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” Rufus asked, eyes full of worry. Lucy patted his chest gently.

“Of course. I’ve been on my own for forty years. I’ll be just fine.” And just like that, with her message delivered, all the energy seemed to drain out of her. Lucy settled back against the pillows, her shoulders sagging and eyes drooping.

“We should let you rest,” Rufus said and straightened.

Wyatt knew he was right; Lucy was clearly exhausted and they needed to start preparing for their new mission but he was reluctant to leave. After all the worry and the fear, they’d finally found her again and he was supposed to just walk away and leave her here. He wasn’t sure he was strong enough for that.

The door to the room open with a bang and Agent Christopher walked in, a reprimand on her lips, when her eyes caught Lucy. She froze in the doorway, gobsmacked. Rufus gave Lucy’s hand one last squeeze and turned to Wyatt.

“I got this. Take your time,” he smiled gently and turned to herd Christopher from the room.

Lucy was close to sleep but her eyes were fixed on Wyatt’s face.

“You look exactly as I remember you,” she smiled, “still so handsome.” He chuckled and settled down on the edge of the bed.

“Handsome? Are you sure you haven’t gone a bit senile after all these years?” Wyatt grinned and it was worth it to hear her gentle laugh.

“Maybe I have but I’m pretty sure I thought the same last time I saw you.”  The smile vanished from his face as he looked down at her and tried to see the face he knew in the wizened features before him.

“We’ll make this right, Lucy,” he promised, “We’ll stop Flynn and we’ll get you back.”

“I know you will,” she sighed, her features carefully blank, “and when you do, I want you to do something.”

“What?” he asked. She took his hand and placed the journal on his palm.

“There’s a letter in here; It’s got your name on it. Promise me you’ll read it but only after you save her. Once everything is done and you’ve all made it back home safe, read it.” Her eyes never wavered from his as she spoke and her voice was low, sombre.

“I promise,” he told her, hearing the seriousness and knowing that nothing less would satisfy her.

“Only after you get back,” she insisted.

“Only when we get back,” he assured. Her smile was so heartbreakingly tired as she closed her eyes that Wyatt wasn’t sure he could make himself leave her side long enough to keep his promise.

“You’re a good man, Wyatt Logan, and you deserve peace too,” she mumbled as she passed into sleep.

Wyatt’s fingers tightened on the journal full of a life that he was about to both erase and save as a new determination filled him.

 _Lucy,_ he thought, _We’re coming._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! So yeah, I bashed this out this morning because I wanted to finish this story before I got distracted. Again, forgive spelling mistakes, I haven't edited it yet.  
> Enjoy!

It was barely two hours later that they stepped out of the Lifeboat into 1953. Rufus had run Christopher through what Lucy had told them and she had the Lifeboat prepared in record time. Something must have happened between them, Wyatt thought, something that brought them closer because Christopher was just as ready to jump at any chance to save Lucy as Wyatt or Rufus had been. He didn’t really care beyond the fact that it had gotten them there quicker.

Rufus had managed to land them inside a disused aircraft hangar in what would become JFK International Airport. The clouds of dust that kicked up when they jumped out of the Lifeboat was enough to convince Wyatt that they probably wouldn’t be disturbed here.

“December 9th 1953, 10:36PM,” Rufus announced.

“According to Lucy’s journal, Flynn should be by the East River around 6pm tomorrow,” Wyatt said as he flicked through the pages of the book.

He’d found the letter when he was looking for the entry on Gelding, a small innocuous envelope with his name written in Lucy’s combination print/cursive script. It had taken a lot of willpower not to open it as soon as it had slipped from the notebook but he remembered his promise. He’d tucked it safely into one of the storage compartments of the Lifeboat, ready for him when they bring Lucy back home.

“We should see if we can find Gelding’s bookshop. That’ll give us a place to start.”

“I’m gunna have to steal another car, aren’t I?” Rufus sighed. Wyatt grinned and clapped the pilot on the shoulder as they made their way out into the past.

Brooklyn was as full of life in 1953 as it was in 2016; even this late at night, the streets were crowded with people coming home from a night out or searching for a bar they haven’t been kicked out of yet, cars rolled along the road splashing rainwater under their whitewalls and lovers huddled for warmth and protection from the elements in alcoves and alleyways. It was dirty, the streets littered with refuse and the air clogged with exhaust fumes and smoke from the barrel fires of the homeless, but it was alive.

Rufus managed to ‘procure’ them a car from the airport parking lot and they began making their way toward the river. It took them a while, the city was by no means small and the twists and turns of the roads weren’t familiar to either of them, made even more alien by the minimal street lights and unknown landmarks, but eventually they found their way to Gelding’s Bargain Books. It was right on the waterfront, like Lucy said. It was a small store with an apartment above crammed between a warehouse of some kind and a trading company’s office. There weren’t any lights on and the door was locked. A sign on the door claimed ‘TRADING HOURS: 9AM-6PM MON-SAT’.

“We could break in,” Rufus suggested slowly. It always amazed Wyatt how much he’d changed since they first met just a few months ago. That the timid scientist who had once balked at the idea of even setting foot in the Lifeboat was now openly suggesting breaking into someone’s house was both funny and sad to him. Rufus should never have had to abandon his morals like that.

“No. We’re not here for Gelding; we only need him to lead us to Flynn,” Wyatt decided. “Is there a hotel around here somewhere?”

“I saw one a few blocks back.”

They left their stolen car by the bank of the river and walked back to the hotel. The steward was happy to book them a room with two beds.

“It’s the holidays, you see,” he explained, “lots of couples staying but nobody wants to doubles!”

“Oh yeah, it’s almost Christmas, isn’t it?” Rufus blinked. The man smiled sympathetically.

“Been a busy month, has it?” he asked.

“You have no idea.”

The room was simple, two single beds, an armchair by the window and a small coffee table. Rufus dropped onto one of the beds and asked,

“So how does this guy end up in the river anyway?”

Wyatt flipped through to the right page in the journal.

“Apparently, he’s a drinker. Went for a stroll by the water and fell in. He hit his head on the way down and would have drowned if Flynn hadn’t saved him,” he read.

“That makes our job easier, I guess. All we have to do is keep Flynn away from the water long enough to for a man to die,” he huffed and flopped onto his back staring at the ceiling. Wyatt looked at his friend sadly. Even with compromised morals Rufus had trouble standing by and letting a man die. Wyatt felt the same but…

“He’s going to kill someone and sell their work to the Soviets. He’ll betray his country and try to make us lose the Cold War,” he said quietly. Rufus sighed and closed his eyes.

“I know but that doesn’t make it any easier.”

Wyatt had nothing to say to that because he was right; nothing ever made watching someone die easier. He’d seen a lot during his tours and if there was one thing he was sure of it was that the weight of seeing death never gets easier to bare, you just get more used to ignoring it.

“Tomorrow morning we’ll scout out the bookshop, find Flynn and by tomorrow night we’ll have Lucy back.”

“Yes sir,” Rufus replied with a crooked smile. Wyatt shook his head.

“Get some sleep, Rufus.”

As Wyatt threw himself down on the other bed he thought of the woman he had seen in that hospital bed and wondered what their Lucy would have to say about the stories she had to tell.

He grinned. He couldn’t wait to see her reaction to that.

 

* * *

 

 

Watching Arthur Gelding go about his day was one of the single most boring assignments Wyatt had ever had. He had gotten up before dawn and found a nice nook by the base of the Manhattan Bridge to watch the bookshop from. Gelding had stumbled home, clearly shitfaced, at around 6AM. He’d gone upstairs and passed out but true to his word, the store was open at 9.

Wyatt had wandered in and pretended to browse for a while just to see what this man was like. He was short and round, beer belly seeming to have migrated to just about everywhere. His hair was mousy, matching his narrow eyes, long nose and overbite. He was quiet, more worried about nursing his hangover than talking to any customers that happened to come in, but nothing about him screamed murder and treason. Then again, Wyatt knew better than to judge someone by the appearance they displayed to the outside world.

It was close to four in the afternoon when he spotted them. Flynn was striding purposefully down the street with Lucy trailing behind him and a second man at her back to force her forward. Wyatt’s breath caught at the sight of her, his Lucy with hair that was still dark and no wrinkles in sight. She seemed worn, her hair frazzled and flyaway in its messy bun, clothes wrinkled and face pale. She seemed thinner than he remembered. Wyatt felt anger build in his stomach. What the hell had he been doing to her? She looked like she hadn’t eaten properly in days!

It took a lot for Wyatt to hold his position, to not jump out, shoot Flynn and Lucy back then and there but he couldn’t risk changing anything. The other Lucy had been adamant that Gelding had to drown in the East River tonight.

He watched as the group walked down the pier and paused in front of the bookshop. Flynn seemed to be speaking, gesturing to the building with one hand while the other held Lucy arm. Wyatt grit his teeth at the urge to break that hand. She appeared to be ignoring Flynn as much as possible. Wyatt felt kind of proud of her for the show of stubbornness. But Flynn must have told her who was inside because Lucy’s head snapped around with frightening speed. She started speaking rapidly and at Flynn’s reply she started struggling against his hold. He pulled her close and hissed into her face. She reeled back and slapped him with enough force to stagger him. The other man grabbed Lucy’s hair and pulled her back. Flynn regained himself and called the man off. He grabbed Lucy’s chin, tipping her face up to his and snarled at her. She didn’t answer him. Flynn let her go and started walking again, the other man gave Lucy a rough shove and followed.

Wyatt watched the whole exchange with his hands balled into fists at his side. Just two more hours. Two more hours and Flynn would be dead and Lucy would be back home safe. He waited until they had vanished further down the docks before he left his hiding place to go find Rufus.

They were getting her back tonight.

 

* * *

 

Rufus had managed to find them a few more guns while Wyatt was keeping watch. Luckily, Christopher had thought to include gun licenses with their papers this time and it was an easy matter to walk into a gun shop and purchase two pistols and a rifle. Rufus was crouched in an open shipping container on the wharf with his gun drawn while Wyatt was planted on a vantage by the bridge sighting down his Springfield M1, finger rested lightly on the trigger.

It was past six now but Lucy’s journal hadn’t given a specific time. The sun had set an hour ago, winter claiming the light far earlier than usual. The air was cold and a light rain began to fall. The droplets were freezing against the ground, turning to a dangerous sleet.

It was almost ten minutes before Gelding started to make his way along the water’s edge. Wyatt watched with detached interest as he made it five feet, ten, twenty. At twenty-five feet, his foot hit an icy patch. His drunken body couldn’t compensate for the sudden shift. He toppled back, his calves catching on the low rope barrier sending him over. There was a loud thump as his skull caught on the wooden boards of the wharf. His body rolled bonelessly down into the icy water below.

Almost instantly Flynn appeared from down an alleyway and ran at a sprint toward the river. Wyatt turned with him, tracking him through the scope of his rifle. He released his breath. His finger twitched on the trigger. The crack of a bullet splitting the night air caught Flynn’s attention just before it pierced his shoulder and sent him spinning to the ground.

Wyatt was up and moving before Rufus had even risen from his hiding place. When the soldier made it to the downed man, Rufus stood over him with his pistol pointed at his chest. He kept a few feet between them like Wyatt had told him knowing that Flynn was stronger than him and willing to fight dirty.

“How did you know where I was going to be?” Flynn gasped, his hand pressing painfully into his shoulder as he tried to staunch the bleeding. Wyatt pulled the journal from his waistband and held it out for him to see. Flynn’s eyes widened at the familiar looking notebook.

“You left Lucy in 1971. She waited forty years to tell us how to stop you,” Wyatt said coldly as he pressed the muzzle of his rifle against Flynn’s sternum. The man’s mouth gaped, eye locked on the book that had ruined his plans and led him here to his death.

“Hell hath no fury…” Rufus said with a tight smile.

“Did she even tell you who this was?” Flynn tried desperately, “She didn’t, did she? She lied to-“

_Bang!_

Flynn’s head snapped backwards, red spraying up from his temple and exploding from the base of his skull like a macabre Pollock painting of blood and brain matter. Wyatt stood with his gun held steady, steam rising from the barrel in the cold night air. Rufus just stared at the limp body by his feet.

“You just shot him…” His voice was numb as he forced the words out.

“Lucy doesn’t deserve his lies,” Wyatt told him simply. The image of that woman who had endured so much laying in a hospital bed waiting to die would be branded in his mind forever. He wouldn’t let Flynn taint that image with his false words.

The sound of sirens started drifting in from the streets further down and Wyatt turned to Rufus.

“Gelding?”

The pilot ran to the barricade and looked down. He stared into the water for a few moments before returning with a brisk nod.

“Dead,” he confirmed. “But how are we supposed to find Lucy without Flynn?” Wyatt tapped the notebook against Rufus’ chest.

“She left us a map.” 

 

* * *

 

 

It took them less than thirty minutes to find the abandoned apartment building Flynn had been staying at. Wyatt could see Lucy through the window, sitting in a chair with her hands bound as a man walked circles around her, his fingers trailing across her shoulders. Her face was filled with disgust and her shoulders tightened every time he passed behind her.

Wyatt rested the butt of his gun against his shoulder and looked down the scope. Just when he was about to take the shot the man leant down and pressed his face right beside Lucy’s. Wyatt cursed; he couldn’t take the shot without hitting her.

He handed the Springfield to Rufus and pulled out his Beretta.

“You’re going in there?” Rufus asked.

“Can’t make the shot from out here.” Wyatt nodded to the rifle. “You know how to use one of those?”

Rufus swallowed thickly and loaded a new round into the chamber before mimicking the stance Wyatt had taken, butt to shoulder and cheek to stock, eye looking down the sight. The soldier nodded approvingly and readjusted his hands on the weapon.

“You’re backup. He comes through that door, you shoot. Got it?”

Rufus nodded. Wyatt squeezed his shoulder reassuringly as he made his way across the street and into the building. He almost couldn’t believe how close they were. Lucy was only three floors up and Flynn was dead. This would be their last mission together.

He tried to convince himself that he didn’t feel kind of sad about that. He had grown to like Lucy and Rufus and while he was happy that they wouldn’t have to keep jumping through time after a maniac, he was going to miss them. He knew they would probably still stay friends after all was said and done, after all, who else could they talk to about all that they’d seen. But it wouldn’t be the same.

He pulled himself up the last flight of stairs and cautiously pushed the door open. Wyatt winced at the obnoxious squeak it let out and waited to see if anyone had heard. The floor was silent but for the murmur of an old radio, or possibly a new one. Time travel, man. He stepped into the hall, gently testing the boards for noise as he made his way toward to noise. He reached the door and pressed his ear against it.

“…no Flynn and no soldier boy here to keep you safe this time,” a muffled voice said. There was silence for a moment and then a yelp and a crash. “You bit me, you bitch!”

“I told you not to touch me,” Lucy’s replied and Wyatt felt something in his chest ease at the sound of her voice, just the way he remembers it. The distinctive sound of a safety being flicked off made it through the door.

Wyatt crashed through the door with his gun up and fired two shots. One grazed the man’s arm, the other missing. He dove to the side and let off two shots of his own. Wyatt ducked back behind the doorframe. The bullets thunked into the timber and Wyatt span around again, let off another shot. This one caught the man in the thigh and he went down with a scream of pain.

“Wyatt!” Lucy cried in relief. He didn’t respond, just stalked around the table and fired two rounds into the man’s chest. When he was sure he was dead he turned back to the woman in the chair.

“Lucy,” he breathed. He ran to her and cut her bindings quickly and grabbed her in a tight hug. “Thank God.”

She clung to his shoulders tightly and he felt the quiet hitching of her breath against his neck as she nodded her agreement.

“How did you find me?” she whispered, not trusting her voice to speak louder. He pulled back slightly and brushed her hair out of her face, his eyes locked on her features. She was dirty and clearly tired but she still looked like he remembered.

“It’s a long story. Right now, we’ve got to go; we weren’t exactly quiet,” he told her.

She nodded her understanding and Wyatt took her hand to lead her back out to where Rufus was waiting. The instant he saw her, he dropped the Springfield on the ground and wrapped her in a relieved hug.

“It’s so good to see you,” he grinned.

“You too, Rufus,” she smiled, tears sitting in her eyes. Wyatt let them have a moment but he had to interrupt when he heard sirens approaching.

“Come on, guys. Let’s go home.” 

 

* * *

 

 

“Wait, so it was only a week for you?” Lucy asked as they made their way back into the hanger at JFK.

“Yeah. The other Lucy said it was a month for you, right?” Rufus asked. He was finding the whole idea of the different timelines fascinating.

“He left me in Paris 1818 for two weeks when he first took me and then we jumped around Europe in the 1930s, not the safest place to be, might I add, before he brought me here. I have no idea what he was trying to do or why he took me in the first place.”

"Well, maybe these’ll help,” Wyatt smirked and handed her two notebooks, one a battered brown and the other a bloodstained black.

“Are these…?” she asked as she cradled them cautiously.

“The other Lucys’ journals. I lifted that one off Flynn’s body before we came to find you. Thought you might find it interesting.”

She looked at him with wide, fearful eyes but nodded. Wyatt got it; it was always dangerous to know too much about your future and he’d just handed her two possibilities. What would those journals reveal to her, he wondered.

“What was she like? The old me?” she asked slowly. Wyatt thought of the woman he had seen so briefly, so like Lucy and so not. He couldn’t keep the sad remembrance from his face.

“Tired,” he answered. He shook his head to bring himself back to the present and smirked. “Much like me. Let’s go home.”

They clambered up into the Lifeboat and Wyatt took great pleasure in tightening Lucy’s harness like he always did. She smiled warmly at him and leant back, secure in the knowledge that they’d be home soon and they had their team back together.

 

* * *

 

 

Wyatt stepped down out of the Lifeboat first to the complete silence of the Mason Industries hangar. Everyone in the room had their eyes fixed on him, their breath held and eyes hopeful. He smirked to Christopher and turned, arm held up. Lucy stepped out and took his hand to help her down. The bay erupted in cheers and applause. She blushed lightly as she made it to the ground and Wyatt squeezed her fingers for a moment, letting go as Jiya ran forward to wrap her in a hug.

Christopher walked forward and welcomed Lucy home then turned to Wyatt.

“So, the mission was a success?” she asked with a raised brow.

“Flynn is dead,” he reported. Christopher nodded approvingly. “What about Lucy?” he asked. She stared at him blankly.

“What about her? She’s home safe, I imagine she’ll want to go home and see her mother-“

“No, the other Lucy, the Lucy from ’71,” he corrected. Christopher shook her head slowly.

“I’m sorry, Sargent Logan, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“So it worked,” Rufus said as he clambered down from the Lifeboat, “Lucy never got stranded in 1971 and she disappeared from this timeline.”

“I guess so,” Wyatt smiled. She got what she wanted; she didn’t have to die and Lucy will get to live a real life.

“It sounds like we need to have a talk,” Christopher said, her eyes skating between the two of them before she looked over her shoulder at the haggard Lucy who was still receiving well wishes from everyone. “But it will have to wait. Lucy needs to get checked over and you two need to rest up before your next mission.”

“Wait,” Wyatt called, “Next mission? Flynn’s dead.”

“Yes,” she agreed, “but given recent events we can assume that Anthony is not a hostage but was working with Flynn and he still has the Mothership.”

A weight settled low in his stomach. Of course they forgot about Anthony and the Mothership. How could they have been so stupid?

“And Wyatt,” Christopher continued, “please call your wife; she said you missed dinner with her parents and she sounded quite upset.”

Wyatt’s head snapped up so fast he was surprised his neck didn’t break.

“Wife?” he breathed. Christopher’s eyes widened.

“You were married in this other timeline, right?” she asked with concern.

“Excuse me,” he breathed and pushed through the crowd. Rufus was calling his name behind him but he didn’t stop until he reached the lockers off from the wardrobe dock. He dropped onto a bench as the words rattled around inside his mind.

Jess was here. Jess was alive. How? He couldn’t think of anything that they’d done that would…

_“Promise me you’ll read it but only after you save her. Once everything is done and you’ve all made it back home safe, read it.”_

He ripped the letter from his pocket and opened it only slow enough that he wouldn’t tear it.

_Wyatt,_

_I lied to you. I know this isn’t the first thing you want to hear after you get back but it’s the truth. The man I sent you after, the man that you were supposed to let die, didn’t kill anybody. After Flynn saved him, Arthur Gelding married his sweetheart, a jazz singer from a bar downtown. They had three children, twin sons and a daughter. The daughter, Abigail died in childbirth in 1977. The eldest son, James was killed in a robbery two years later. Their last child was named John and in 1984, he married Rebecca Olson and had a son of his own that they named Jim after John’s brother. When John died of cancer in 1994, Jim took his mother’s name._

_On July 16 th 2013, Jim Olson was walking home late at night. He was as fond of alcohol as his grandfather had been and with twice the temper. He saw a woman walking along the road alone. She seemed upset. He tried to pick her up but when she refused, he became enraged. He grabbed her by the neck and strangled her to death. He panicked and carried her body off into the woods._

_The next morning, he remembered none of this but something must have remained because he quit drinking afterwards._

_If the mission went as it was supposed to, Arthur Gelding died in 1953. He never married and he never had John. John never met Rebecca and Jim was never born. Jessica should be alive._

_I told you before, Wyatt. You’re a good man and you deserve to be happy. Jessica is your happiness and just as you freed me from the sadness of the life I lived under Flynn, I’m giving you back the life that you deserve._

_Love Jessica and smile. I always thought you had a beautiful smile._

_Thank you,_

_Lucy._

Wyatt couldn’t stop the tears on his face if he tried. He couldn’t stop his hands from shaking as he pulled his phone from the locker behind him and dialled the number that he knew by heart. His breath shook in and out of his chest as the call rang and rang. He almost lost hope but at last it picked up.

“And where the hell have you been?” a stern, beautiful, angry, angelic voice growled through the line. Wyatt laughed. He couldn’t stop the rasping, pained laugh. She was there, at home, waiting for him. “Wyatt?” she asked, her voice concerned now.

“I’m here,” he gasped.

“Here where?” she wondered, the worry still in her voice but the anger creeping back in. “You promised to have dinner with mom and dad last night.”

“A last-minute mission came up,” he explained as he tried to calm his voice but every word out of her mouth threatened to send him back over the edge.

“Well, at least call and tell me that! We waited in the restaurant for an hour,” she huffed. “When are you coming home?”

“Soon,” he promised, “I just have to do something first.”

“Get off the phone, then! The sooner you do whatever it is you need to do the sooner I can beat your ass for skipping out on me,” she threatened. Wyatt let out a wet laugh. God, he’d missed her.

“I love you,” he told her, the words sticking in his throat but he forced them out, needed to say them.

“I love you too,” she replied warmly. “Now get to work!” The phone line clicked as she hung up and Wyatt had to spend the next few minutes convincing himself that she would be there when he got home, that the disconnected call wasn’t Jess disappearing into the ether and leaving him all alone again.

He sat there staring at the phone until his breathing got back under control and his eyes drifted over the letter. He stood and ran from the room. He pounded down the hallway to the women’s change room and threw the door open without pausing. Lucy was there pulling a fresh shirt over her head. She stared at him surprised.

“Wyatt?” she asked, “Are you oka-“ But before she could finish he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. She tentatively settled her arms around his waist and rubbed his back comfortingly. “What’s wrong?” she asked, feeling the tremor in his limbs.

“Thank you,” he whispered softly, “Thank you so much.”

“Wyatt, I don’t know what you mean,” she frowned.

“I know,” he laughed, “But thank you anyway.”

“Then, you’re welcome, I guess,” she said with a confused smile. He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed by his display. “And thank you, Wyatt. You came to get me, just like I knew you would. Thank you.”

“Like I would ever leave you behind,” he smirked. She shook her head with a laugh.

“Go home and get some sleep, Wyatt. From what Jiya told me, you need it,” her sharp eyes glanced over his unshaven face, dark circles and dishevelled hair. He shrugged in a ‘what can you do’ fashion. “And it sounds like they’re going to want us back sooner than we thought, what with the Mothership still out there.”

“We’re not getting out of this any time soon,” he mumbled.

“Guess not,” Lucy replied tiredly. “But at least we know what we’re up against.” She tapped the notebooks on the bench behind her.

“We’ve got the playbook,” he grinned. If they knew exactly where Anthony was supposed to be-

“That’s assuming Anthony follows the same schedule Flynn was going to,” Lucy thought. “I mean, in this journal Flynn isn’t dead. So doesn’t that mean we’ve already changed the way things are going to play out?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “but Anthony still wants to destroy Rittenhouse so if that journal can tell us its members-“

“-Then he’s bound to show up eventually,” Lucy finished. “We can get him on the run.”

“All we have to do is wait for him to take the Mothership out.”

“Just like old times,” Lucy smiled and Wyatt returned it.

“Get some sleep, Lucy, and get something to eat; it looks like Flynn didn’t feed you at all.”

“Goodnight, Wyatt.”

“Night,” he waved as he left.

Everything was back the way it should be; Lucy was home and safe and not 70 years old, Jessica was alive and waiting for him. It was almost perfect. Now they only had to stop Anthony and he wasn’t really a threat. The man was a scientist that had been held under the thumb of a madman. They could finish this quickly and then they would get to return to their normal, one time period lives.

But for now, Wyatt didn’t want to think about that. His wife was waiting for him at home, alive and well and still in loving him despite his ridiculous jealousy. He was going to go home and hold her, kiss her, tell her he loved her and he’d deal with time machines and insanity tomorrow.

For now, he’d been given a chance to live again and he was taking it with both hands.


End file.
